


Big Blue Eyes

by al_coholica



Category: Laurel and Hardy (Movies)
Genre: Admiration, Loneliness, M/M, Out of Character, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, please read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 11:51:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_coholica/pseuds/al_coholica
Summary: Oliver was once asked by an old girlfriend if he’d ever get tired of her. It was a rather serious question for a seventeen-year-old boy like him. But he humored her, and while he tucked her blonde hair behind her ear, he lied and promised he wouldn’t. He did, of course, he grew tired.





	Big Blue Eyes

Oliver was once asked by an old girlfriend if he’d ever get tired of her. 

It was a rather serious question for a seventeen-year-old boy like him. But he humored her, and while he tucked her blonde hair behind her ear, he lied and promised he wouldn’t. He did, of course, he grew tired. His next girlfriend asked the same question, and he felt a touch of deja vu as he lied once more, but he tucked black hair instead of blonde this time. 

He wished he hadn’t grown tired of them.

His first, Mary, was beautiful. Skinny, with shining brown eyes and a radiant smile. She smelled of roses and the earthy smell of a forest he once walked through. How did he ever fall out of love with her?

Evangeline was his second girl. She was a little soft, but he liked it at the time. Her heart-shaped face was decorated with dazzling grey eyes and a gentle smile. Her hair was a silky black and it seemed to always come undone out of her braid. She was gorgeous, and Oliver couldn’t understand why he let her go. 

At twenty-four, while his friends were getting married, he stayed alone.

Those days were dark, the darkest days he could remember. Alcohol and prostitutes kept him company, but when he cleaned up and went to search for a companion, his eyes never wandered.

They stayed glued to his soda in front of him. He moved away when he heard both Mary and Evangeline were married to their husbands.

He was too late, he had already lost them long ago. Even though he felt nothing for them, they were the only ones who loved him. But he'd rather have them happy than have them miserable with someone who didn’t love them back. 

Apartments weren’t hard to find in his new town, and once moved in, he needed to familiarize himself with the in’s and out’s of the streets. He walked to the nearest pub, stayed sober to not look at any girls that passed him by, then went home and stayed up all night in bed. He didn’t have any money for alcohol, so loneliness kept him drunk. 

Finding a job was easy (easier than finding a woman), and he worked overtime to distract himself from the loneliness that was now perched on his shoulder.

It mocked him, tauntingly asking him what a beautiful woman would want with a big fat boy like him? When he got money, he got alcohol.

Walking home from the liquor store with a heavy heart, Oliver felt tears sting his eyes, loneliness hissing truthful lies in his ears again. He turned the corner to get to his door, not realizing a smaller body smacked into him. Evangeline used to say he was built like a brick wall. 

He sputtered out an apology, helping a skinny man up from the floor.

He weighed almost nothing, looked like it too. His light brown suit was a size too big for him, the sleeves covered most of his hands. All Oliver could see was long, slender fingers peeking out of the fabric.

His auburn hair was unruly, the front feathered over his eyes. Oliver asked if he was alright, and he moved his hair away and struck Oliver senseless.

His eyes were a magnificent shade of blue, like the familiar summer skies Oliver grew up with as a child. Specks of green littered all around his irises, like little lily pads in a gorgeous lake. Oliver was so mesmerized, he almost didn’t hear his reply.

He was, in fact, alright. And out of curiosity, he asked if Oliver was okay. Oliver said he was, all while watching the skinnier mans thin, perfectly pink lips wrap around his words.

They shook hands and introduced themselves.

Stan was the man's name, Stan Laurel. Such a nice name, Oliver thought. It turned out they lived right across from each other. That was good news. Once they said their goodbyes, Oliver opened his bottle and poured it down the drain.

Days bled into months, and the two got closer and closer. Stan had gotten fired from his previous job and was now working with his larger companion.

They shared working tools, lunches, secrets and backgrounds. Oliver learned his friend was from Ulverston, which was somewhere over in England. He had come over to America when he was twenty-three. 

Those precious months piled up into a year, and now they were sharing an apartment.

That wasn’t the only they were sharing.

While their friends were getting married, they were stealing gentle kisses behind closed doors and tender caresses in their sunlight-stained sheets.

Oliver felt his heart swell as his better-half ran his hands down his face, his thumbs running over his lips and cheeks.

Stan smiled at him while he held him close by his thin waist. Oliver could feel his warm skin through his thin shirt, he kissed his temple and pulled him closer, deeply inhaling his scent.

God, he smelled so different than Mary and Evangeline.

Stan smelt like the air before a thunderstorm, like the wet sidewalks he brought with him from England, like the ocean on a cloudy day.

A giggle erupted from his lips, and Oliver smiled gently to himself and continued doing what he was doing.

He had learned Stan was ticklish a while ago when he helped him out of his coat. And _oh,_ his **_laugh_**_._ By listening to his soft-spoken, and sometimes strange words, Oliver wouldn’t ever have guessed that he could possess such an extravagant laugh.

Those damned eyes would scrunch up, and his smile would increase, showing his teeth, (Oliver had also learned Stan hated his teeth, and he never understood why) and a high-pitched cackle would escape from the back of the throat.

It was loud, and it was silly, and _God,_ Oliver wanted to hear it all the time.

He tickled Stan until he was reduced to tears and wheezes escaped his lungs, and those big blue eyes would beg him to stop when he physically couldn’t.

Now, as Oliver's warm breath ghosted over his thin neck, Stan began to giggle. He playfully smacked Oliver's arm, and the larger man chuckled and stopped. He then rolled over to his back, bringing Stan on top of him, wrapping his strong arms around him.

They stayed like that until nightfall, breathing in the presence of each other. In the pale moonlight, while they bathed in cigarette smoke, Stan asked Oliver if he would ever get tired of him. 

“Never,” Oliver promised, and for more than forty years, he kept that promise. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey I was in the mood for the boys ™ to be gay and romantic so yeah.


End file.
